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oukabarsburgblr · 7 days

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drabble...

"Daisuke...wake up. You promised me you'd accompany me this time."

There were quiet noises of (m/n) whining while shaking a sleeping ravenette, the (h/c) kneeling beside the arranged thick futon in the dim room. "Mmm..." A groan escaped the ravenette's lips who rubbed his sleepy eyes, opening to see a pouting (h/c) over his face, possibly the greatest thing to wake up to in the mornings.

"...where's Haru?" "He's still asleep. I knew that bitch wouldn't wake up." "Sousuke?" "Like a log." A stifled laugh came from Daisuke as he groggily sat up, pinching (m/n)'s cheek. "I'm up, I'm up." He beckoned the (h/c) to stop sulking.

The four friends were on a glamping trip and (m/n) had a tradition to always explore the town nearby on the second day of the trip in the early morning, but almost every night before, they would play games or pull some random bullshit to tire themselves out so (m/n) was left alone most of the time.

Sousuke had been the solo driver of the trip yesterday so there was no point to waking his tired ass up, Haru was ignoring his pleas and Daisuke had promised him that he would wake up that morning to accompany his adventures.

Now here he finds himself, brushing his teeth and washing himself, getting ready to explore the nearby town. It wasn't remote nor rural, in fact the place was quite popular for tourists so he wasn't exactly surprised when he drove with (m/n) to find a huge shopping complex.

Daisuke wanted to laugh when he saw their outfits when (m/n) pulled out his shirt from his bags. They were matching to say the least, Daisuke Yuichi donned in a white polo shirt, beige khakis and a navy cap on top of his rich black hair. (m/n) (l/n) with a beige sweater, brown pants and a printed scarf tied around his head with strands of (h/c) nested snugly and a pair of sunglasses perched on top as well.

It looked like they were on a date. Well, Daisuke already considered that the second Sousuke wasn't waking up as (m/n) pulled him in further into the shopping mall. "Should I try this?" The (h/c) excitedly placed a maroon glasses into the frame of his face, checking himself out in the mirror. The brand of Emporio Armani, Daisuke's second favourite, etched into the side of the temple.

"Looks good on you. Let's take it." Daisuke shrugged, his hands crossed over his beefy chest, smiling at the (h/c) switching out sunglasses where his own was now on top of Daisuke's head. "You say that with every pair I picked." (m/n) rolled his eyes.

"Doesn't help you look good in everything." He called the attendant to pack three pairs of specs, all of them (m/n) had touched when he had walked into the store, mindlessly swiping his card when the (h/c) attempted to pay for himself.

"Thanks, Daisuke. I'll buy us lunch." "You know you won't." He smirked as the (h/c) smacked his back, muttering insults under his breath. (m/n) never paid for anything around the ravenette, Daisuke using his card his dad feeds money into weekly. There was a porter he had hired from the mall's services, quietly following them around carrying (m/n)'s purchases.

He was more than happy to spoil his prince, buying him luxurious gifts for his birthdays or giving into (m/n)'s spending habits, it won't ever leave a dent into his account anyways.

If Daisuke had looked a tad bit older, maybe more like his father, passerbys would've thought it was a sugar daddy-baby situationship, it was in fact just two close friends shopping together, one of which leaning into more than friends.

His large pale hand was on (m/n)'s lower back as they waited in line in a desserts store, the two making small talk with each other with the ever increasing bags on the porter's arms.

"You'd think they'd be up by now?" Daisuke shrugged again, not even thinking of anyone else whenever he's with the (h/c). "Doubt it. They wore themselves out pretty bad yesterday." "Didn't you suggested to do rock climbing when we got here?" (m/n) glared at the ravenette.

"Hey, not my fault Sousuke wanted to go up until the top." Frankly, it was actually Daisuke challenging the redhead to see who could climb the highest since Sousuke was fairly known to be more athletic than him and he had also been the one to drove them to the homestay.

Daisuke still lost, but he was currently alone, eating ice cream with his crush so who won at the end anyways. He bit into the green pistachio soft serve treat, relishing at the taste, although he had eaten better ones before. The ravenette wiped off a smudge of caramel from (m/n)'s lips before licking his own finger mindlessly, not noticing the flustered expression the (h/c) had for a split second.

The adorable headscarf was still around his head, Daisuke always liked how (m/n) was so versatile. "Wanna check out more stuff?" "It's already past noon, Haru's going to get mad at us." "We could stay a bit longer. Swarovski is just at the other end."

(m/n) eventually caved in and exited the retail store with a few boxes of fresh jewellery and a proud look on Daisuke's face who had bought similar pieces to the (h/c)'s. He tipped the porter handsomely before driving them to their homestay, a satisfied smile resting on his lips as he unconsciously placed a hand around (m/n)'s thigh.

The (h/c) was happy he got to spend religiously today, ignoring the hand around his leg as he checked himself out in the dashboard mirror, adjusting his new maroon specs. The grin on his face dropped as soon as he saw a certain redhead frowing, his arms crossed as he stood at the entry of the homestay.

"Think he's mad?" "I don't care either way." (m/n) groaned at Daisuke's response as they parked in the driveway, the ravenette nonchalantly exiting his side and went to retrieve their purchases at the trunk of the car. The (h/c) went up to Sousuke, trying to console him while the latter only glared at the ravenette who was ignoring him.

"You idiots, do you realise how long you've been out for..." Haru had finally joined the premise, pulling at (m/n)'s ear who yelled at him, saying it was his fault for not waking up as the blonde dragged him inside the house, ready to scold how they had abandoned them past lunch.

Sousuke who had always been the one to save (m/n) from Haru's merciless jabs, ignored the pleas and instead stood face to face with a certain ravenette, holding strings of shopping bags with a straight line on his lips.

"You didn't do anything, did you?" The redhead wasn't pissed but his tone indicated that he was. Maybe he was, just a tad bit jealous that Daisuke got to spend time with (m/n) for hours alone together. "Do what? We just went shopping, dumbass."

Daisuke rolled his eyes, kicking off his shoes as he walked past the steaming redhead. "Can't say we're not dating though. Matched a bit too well today." He teased Sousuke one last time before running inside. A pissed ex-delinquent chasing after him to murder the ravenette, not liking the implications he stated.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

This is canon to the Sousuke Daisuke universe idc. I mean all drabbles are canon except for the smutty ones. Consider them as fun fillers, a peek inside their intertwined lives. I love Daisuke haha. I think I had been giving Sousuke a lot more love lately.

Have i ever mentioned how much I love Lee Won? Never read the manhwa but he's such an icon haha

See ya!

Taglist :

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo @helloanime @garlicforthewin

I keep forgetting abt the taglist😭 forgive me my loves

#oukabarsburg #x male reader #bottom male reader #male reader #x bottom male reader #daisuke yuichi #oc x male reader #oc x reader #male oc

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velvetchrry · 1 month

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━━━━ THISTLE AND BARLEY

pairing: johnny “soap” mactavish x f!reader

2.7k. during a solo trip to the scottish highlands, you find yourself transported back in time.

The chill of the evening air prickles along your skin. The spring breeze envelopes you, circling her prey. You are a rabbit, and she is a fox. She waits, patiently, until you are unsuspecting, and then sinks her sharp teeth into your soft skin.

It seems like you are the only one to really feel the chill — but you are an outsider. An outlander. A stranger. There are a few other foreigners here like you, but mostly it’s the residents of Inverness.

You get some relief when passing by one of the many bonfires littered through this valley. The entire night sky was alight — but not with stars. No, those are almost impossible to see compared to last night. There are enough fires lit in the valley to cause light pollution to seep through to the night sky.

Everyone here is clothed in a flowy, bohemian white gown. A beautiful crown of flowers rests atop your heads. Beltane. The official start to summer.

You didn’t know you would be here tonight until the last minute. The hostess of your bed and breakfast was the one who mentioned it to you this morning. It’s your last night in the Highlands so you figured, why not? Your solo travel adventures are about to come to an end. What’s one more night with no sleep?

A lit cave sparks your interest. It’s small, basically just an opening that goes 8 feet or so, but it’s lit up with candles everywhere. They're arranged in some sort of pattern, but you can’t make out exactly what it’s supposed to be. The air in here is even colder somehow — settling in your bones. You cover your upper body with your arms as best you can, unable to stop yourself from entering this ethereal place.

When you get closer to the wall, you see it has something painted on it. The paint is hard to see, even with the candle light. The same pattern is marked on the cave wall that the candles make on the floor. It’s old, flaking. You let out a breath and you watch as it rises in front of you.

The wall is shifting. Shimmering. It looks celestial. Like the night sky. You rub your eyes. It must be the heat from all the candles.

You turn around to leave but are startled by the sight of a woman at the entrance. You recognize her — it’s the owner of your bed and breakfast. A greeting almost escapes your lips but when you catch the look on her face you can’t seem to speak. Mouth hanging open, you just stare at her. She glides to you effortlessly, lithe for her age. Her fingertips are black as they reach out to you. It happens in slow motion. At least, that’s how it feels. She slowly reaches out to touch you and you stumble back, almost into the wall, just out of range.

“Yer where yer meant to be lass. Remember that. You have to remember. This was destined for ya.”

You shake your head to try and get a grasp on what she’s saying to you. Your tongue is suddenly heavy in your mouth. “Wh.. what?”

“Goodbye, lass.”

Before you can open your mouth to speak, she pushes against your shoulder with a firm hand. You stumble, and brace for impact into the cave wall.

Falling. You’re falling. It’s black.

There is no cave wall.

“D’ya think she’s a witch?”

It's morning, that much you can tell. Birdsong flits down to your ears and the sun is bright against your closed eyes. The grass caresses your body.

“Dinnae think so. Not sure what to make of ‘er.”

You try to remember what happened last. How you got here. Where you are. You brain is fuzzy, feeling like you’re suffering from a hangover. Wait — that’s not right, you didn’t drink last night.

“Let’s just leave her.”

Beltane. The celebration. That’s where you were. In the valley near Inverness. You were wandering. There were fires. Dancing.

“No. We’ll bring her to the castle.”

The cave. Oh god, the lady from your bed and breakfast. She followed you, she pushed you. She said something to you. What did she say to you?

“Yer off yer fuckin’ head, boy. What’ll yer Da say?”

You have to get out of here. You are supposed to be out of here. Your flight out of Inverness leaves this morning. How did this happen?

“I cannae just leave her here.”

Sunlight floods your eyes when they shoot open. A groan escapes you, and you cover your head with your forearm. You struggle to fully sit up, headache assaulting all of your senses.

“Aye, lassie? Ye hearin’ me?”

You rub your eyes and look up to who’s speaking to you. It’s a man in his late 20s. He’s wearing a kilt and it isn’t until you look around that you notice almost all of them are. You saw a few men in Inverness wearing kilts but, not quite like this. They look like an authentic historical recreation.

He’s… handsome. The one talking to you. Pools of blue eyes stare into yours, a hand reaching out to you. You gingerly take it, and he helps you stand. “Ye got a name, hen?”

Still in a bit of a daze, you give him your name and take a second to get your bearings. The cave you remember from last night is just behind you — but there are no candles, or paint on the walls. There’s no evidence anyone was in this valley last night. Where are the pits and scorch marks from the bonfires? What about the string lights that were strung along the tree trunks? Even the grass doesn't look like it’s been trampled on by a hundred or so pairs of feet.

“I’m Johnny of Clan MacTavish. May I ask, what’re ye doin’ out here hen?”

You swallow thickly. “I.. erm.. it’s Beltane. The party?”

“A druid.” The tallest one says. He’s one of the ones not in a kilt and has a deep British accent.

“Ah,” Johnny’s face lights up in understanding. “And yer out here alone?”

“I… uh…” you stutter. You’re not sure what’s happening. They really don't know about the party? Most of them look like and sound locals. “I guess… I am?”

“Where ya from?” one of them asks. He’s got a stout build and a thick set of facial hair.

“Well, I’m an American… I’m just… just traveling…”

You pause when you notice their interests peak.

“Which colony ye fae?” someone asks.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “Colony?”

“She’s a British spy!” another shouts. You flinch.

“Ah, she’s no bloody spy. Look at her,” the tall one from earlier says. “Aye, we never had any spies like her before,” the stout one agrees, coming up to Johnny’s side.

Johnny hums. “I cannae leave you out here to fend on your own, spy or no. Can we take ye somewhere?”

You pause for a moment before speaking. “Inverness?”

Johnny nods and his men grumble, but go back to their horses. He motions for you to follow. You watch as he struggles to get up, wincing in pain and almost falling. The tall one comes up behind you and grabs you by the hips — lifting you ontop of Johnny’s horse and causing you to yelp. “Up ya go.”

Your body goes rigid as Johnny reaches around you to grab the reins. “Ain’t gonna hurt ye, hen,” he murmurs. He kicks the horse into gear and you’re off, still wondering what’s happening to you.

Maybe someone is filming a movie nearby.

You don’t have much of anything to hold onto, so you keep your legs clenched, body stiffened. Johnny notices this, wrapping his big arm around your waist for support. The group keeps a brisk pace, chatting with one another about things you’re unfamiliar with.

Panic starts to seep in when you see the River Ness, which bysects the city. “Where are we? Where’s the city? It should be visible by now.”

“Yer looking straight at it.”

Your breathing picks up rapidly and you try to focus on not hyperventilating. This was not the Inverness you had been in just yesterday.

“No…,” your voice is a soft whisper. “No, no, no… this can’t be right.”

The horse comes to a stop as Johnny tugs on the reins. “What is it, lass?”

The men start to grumble around you as the rest of the group comes to a stop. “Where’s the city? The buildings? Where’s the airport? This is… this isn’t right.”

“I dinnae ken what yer talking about hen but… that’s Inverness up ahead,” Johnny says softly to you.

“I… I don’t…” you stutter.

“Aye, what's goin’ on? Why are we stoppin’?” someone shouts out.

Johnny shoots him a look and walks his horse a little ways up to give you two a bit more privacy. Tears start to well in your eyes, and your nose has that familiar prickle like it’s gonna start running. You’re afraid to ask, but you have to know. “What year is it?”

If Johnny is confused why you’re asking, he doesn't show it. He speaks in a matter of fact tone when he says, “1724.”

No… how could this happen? You can just jump back in time 300 years… this is impossible. This can’t be real… this can’t be. But you saw — you saw right where Inverness is supposed to be. You recognized the landmarks. And it’s just… not right.

“Do ye still want to go to Inverness, hen?”

What are you going to do? There’s no aiport, hell — the America you’d go back to wouldn’t be the same. And what, do you hop on a boat for months and go back to a different world?

“I… I…” You suck in a shaky breath. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” you finally admit.

“I’ll take ye to the Castle,” Johnny states confidently. “Give ya a chance to figure out where yer going.”

A single tear slips down your cheek. Johnny calls out to the group that you’re headed to the Castle and you tune out the cries of them asking why the hell you were going with instead dumping you in Inverness.

The Scottish countryside passes by in a teary-eyed blur. It’s like you blinked and suddenly night is falling, the sun almost completely dipped below the horizon. Your stomach aches with hunger. You’re in an unfamiliar area, surrounded on all sides by trees. Johnny slows his horse, and the rest of his party follows suit. The tall one from earlier glides off his horse with ease and walks over to pick you up off of Johnny’s horse. You watch in a daze as he also gives Johnny a hand, as he struggles to get off his horse.

You look up at him after he is back on the ground. His white shirt seeps red near his bicep. You're not sure how you didn't notice it before. It’s got a brownish tinge to it now.

“You’re hurt.”

He waves you off. “Ach, jus’ a scratch, bonnie.”

He doesn’t stop you, just observes as you walk over to his side. You gently pry back the sticky fabric of his shirt. There’s a decent sized gash through his arm, red and angry. It looks like the start of an infection; like it might need stitches.

“It's not just a scratch if you need help on and off your horse. Did you clean this after it happened?”

“Clean it?” he tilts his head slightly as he asks.

“Like, rinse it? With water, at least?”

He shakes his head no.

You bite your lip as you contemplate. “Does… er… does anyone have any alcohol?”

Some of the guys burst into laughter. One hands you a flask. “Dinnae think you’d be one to get pished, lassie!” he exclaims.

You ignore him and get to work, ripping the bottom of your flimsy white dress. It tears easily under your fingers. You push it into Johnny’s hands and he holds onto the fabric unquestioningly while you uncork the flask with your teeth and again peel back his shirt.

“This is gonna sting a little,” you admit quietly.

He winces and grunts as you pour the alcohol down his arm, the men breaking out into cries of protest at the loss of booze. You place the cork back in the bottle and drop it on the ground. The man who gave you the flask quickly swipes it away from you before you can waste anymore.

Johnny places the ripped fabric of your dress in your outstretched hands. You tie it tightly around his arm, and while he grimaces, he doesn’t complain. You give him a gentle pat on the shoulder when you’re done.

“You’re probably gonna need stitches, but that should hold you over for a bit. Hopefully it’s not infected, or you're gonna need something stronger than alcohol.”

A voice from directly behind you makes you jump out of your skin. “Told ya she was a druid,” the tall one says.

“Aye,” Johnny agrees. “We could use someone with yer skills at the Castle. Our druid can’t…. well she ain’t as nimble as she used ta be.”

You aren’t sure what to say to that so you watch silently as the boys set up camp for the evening. “We’ll reach home come morning,” Johnny tells you at one point. The sun is gone now, the temperature dropping rapidly. The Beltane gown provides no heat and you scoot as close to the fire as you can without singeing off your eyebrows. You ditched your flower crown long ago.

The tall one hands you some food and you eat quietly while the rest of them chat around you. The stout one from earlier and the tall one sit next to each other and observe you, talking lowly to themselves. You try your best to ignore them.

Johnny walks over and sits next to you. “You should get some sleep, hen.” He’s close enough to you that his kilt brushes against your leg.

You swallow thickly and gnaw on your lip. You nod your head in agreement but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to sleep tonight. The reality is, these men are strangers in a strange time — even if one of them has been showing you kindness.

Johnny moves even closer to you and you can’t help but tense up. He's maneuvering his kilt around, tugging on the end of it.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my plaid loose. Cannae let ye sleep in just that shift. You’ll freeze.”

You cross your arms, trying to keep in more warmth. “I’ll be fine.”

He covers your shoulders and instantly you feel warmer. A scent of musk and pine surrounds you, earthy and male. He opens his arm to you, waiting for you to lean against him.

“I meant what I said bonnie, I won’t hurt ye. I’m just keeping warm. Yer teeth chattering is making my bones rattle in my head.”

You can’t help the small chuckle that you produce hearing him tease you a little bit. It serves to make you feel even more comfortable around him. You nod and move in further under the plaid, while he wraps his good arm around you and rubs up and down your arm.

“Yer frozen solid,” he murmurs. “Why ye out here in just a shift anyway?”

“It was… uh… apart of the festival.”

He hums in response, still rubbing you arm up and down, up and down. You find a comfortable silence, leaning against him and listening to the conversations around you. Johnny adds his two cents every so often but mostly just sits beside you quietly.

You can feel your eyelids start to get droopy, your head nodding off every so often, but you fight it. You fight the urge to fall asleep. It’s so much harder now that you're warm. So hard when you’re feeling a small bit of comfort from the touch you're receiving.

You don’t even realize your head is on Johnny’s shoulder right away. You start to sit up, but he grips you a little more firmly to his side.

“Sleep, lassie. Yer safe with me.”

#call of duty #cod x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish x you #john mactavish x you #soap x you #soap x y/n #my work #thistle and barley

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msbigredmachine · 10 months

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The Return (Jey Uso/OC)

You have your own reasons for wishing he just stayed his ass on Smackdown. Jey Uso/OC one-shot.

Warnings: SMUT

Word count: 3.6k

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His baby girl is a stunning sight to behold, so much so that he stops in his tracks to drink you in from his vantage point next to the equipment crates lined up along the hallway backstage. The long locks of your honey-blond wig frame your beautiful face. Your world title belt gleams on your shoulder, shining as bright as the star that you are. Your eyes twinkle and your smile is wide and warm as you chat animatedly with Raquel Rodriguez. That smile used to be preserved for him and him alone, once upon a time.

He may have come over to Raw to break away from the Bloodline, but it’s not the only reason he’s made the jump. Cody brought it up during their rather bizarre phone call, the American Nightmare weaponizing this information in that annoyingly eloquent manner he has perfected…

“I know you’re looking for a fresh start…but not just in the ring…I’m pretty sure there's a certain new Women’s champion you’d like to reunite with…”

Jey has been separated from you for a long time, admittedly by his own doing. It’s been torture. The hours have felt like days and the days like weeks. He’s yearned for your touch, your scent, the warmth of your smooth, soft skin, the taste of your lips. He’s stumbled through the rougher days by thinking about you and what you mean to him. He’s fantasized, and even pleasured himself, to mental snapshots of his past sexual adventures with you, paying tribute to the most incredible orgasms he’s ever experienced. He misses it all; the shudders of your voluptuous body, the pull of your wet, tight pussy around his dick, your fingers dragging across his hair and skin as you come apart for him, as he comes apart for you. The pillow talk and sweet words and soft kisses as you bask in the afterglow together.

The memories are beautiful, but he doesn’t want just ‘memories’ anymore. He’s made mistakes and he wants to fix them, and he only hopes you will let him. Five months is way too long to be without his favorite girl. He has to tread lightly, because even the nasty glare of Drew McIntyre and the conflicted countenance of Matt Riddle are tame compared to the wrath of a woman scorned.

A chill zips down your spine out of nowhere. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A familiar men’s cologne invades your nasal ducts. The knowing look on Raquel’s face right before she slips away confirms the reason your body is reacting so strongly. Only one person does this to you, and he just debuted on Raw as a solo act.

Against your better judgment, you turn around. For what feels like an eternity, you remain frozen as his gorgeous, expressive eyes lock you in, bleeding out your surroundings and everything else until it’s just him, and you, and the pain and hurt he caused all those months ago.

"Sup, champ," he greets, his hands in his jacket pockets, leveling you with his breathtaking smile.

Clearing your throat, you break the trance and present him with your most platonic smile. “Welcome back. Cody must really like you to do what he did, considering y’all’s past.”

Jey shrugs. “He surprised me, too. But whatever I gotta pay back to him, it’ll be worth it.” His eyes travel down the length of your body, appreciating the up-close view. You have on a cropped black tank top and a tight zip-up denim skirt that stops mid-thigh. Your legs are ensconced in knee high boots that have him biting his lip. However, the oversized biker jacket hanging halfway down your arms looks like it belongs to someone else, specifically a certain Señor Money in the Bank. Jey has heard the rumors. Apparently, you’ve moved on. He plans on testing that theory.

“You look amazing, Y/N,” he compliments, his tongue darting out over his lips reflexively.

So does he. Your gaze wanders for a little longer than you’d like. The added bulk to his frame makes him look more intimidating and sexier. His abs are on full display behind his black hooded jacket. Then the dimples and the cheekbones and the full, kissable lips...He’s more mouthwatering than ever, calling out to you to take a bite.

When he moves in for a hug, you flinch and back away, maintaining your cold expression when he pulls back with disappointment. “Come on girl, don’t do me like that,” he sighs.

“Like what? Just cuz I said hi don’t mean I forgot about how you did me,” you answer coolly, “I’m being the bigger person here.”

“Aw, babe, you breakin’ my heart right now.”

“Like you did mine?” you snap, “I ain’t your baby no more. You made sure of that.” He’s lucky you’re even addressing him after everything he’s put you through. Just this April after the Draft, Jey made the decision to leave you all alone on Raw and stay exclusively on Smackdown with his family. The same family who ultimately stabbed him in the back, something you would have never ever done to him in a million years. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back after two years of the most intense, deliciously chaotic entanglement in which you were a source of…comfort…for him, during his tumultuous time with the Bloodline. But, as you soon discovered, so was Kayla, and Liv, and Jakara from NXT, and some other chick named Rashida that he claimed was his childhood ‘bestie’. Somehow, you were roped into his weird harem of revolving women. But you stayed because he needed you…he told you so. He cared for you, he said, and like a fool, you believed him, because you wanted so badly for him to feel the way you felt about him.

Feel about him.

Shaking your head, you resolve to stand your ground. Nope. You will never be used again. You will not give into whatever game he’s trying to play, not this time. You don’t know why he’s come to Raw and you don’t care. You’re the Women’s World champion now. You no longer have room for fuckbois in your life and you need to let him know so.

Jey huffs, looking away for a second before turning back to you. “We need to talk,” he says.

“About what?”

“About us,” he whispers, licking his lips. “I miss you.”

His words cling to you, embracing you. But you shake them off. “Right. Miss me, or my pussy? Them other lame bitches ain’t tight or wet enough?”

Exhaling heavily, Jey meets your death glare head on. “Baby, I fucked up. I admit it. I been fuckin’ up when it comes to you. It’s on me, and I’m sorry. I wanna make things right between us, especially if we’re gonna be on the same show together.”

Scoffing at the words you’ve heard before, you toss your hair back haughtily. “Might be a little too late for that,” you inform him smugly.

“Really? Why? Cuz of your new man? Where his big ass at, anyway?” he taunts, looking over your shoulder for an unseen entity.

“What are you talking about?” you retort, brushing off the guilt lurking for not being honest with him about Damian. Why feel guilty about someone who wasn't honest with you?

“I know about you and Priest. I know that’s his jacket you wearin’.”

You glare at him, incredulous. Is he seriously doing this? “You got no right to be jealous, Jey. Who I am or am not fucking is none of your business. And it’s not like he and I are official yet, so calm your tits.” You pause, wondering why you’re giving an explanation when you owe him nothing.

His lips pull into a smirk. “Huh. So you sayin’ I got a chance...”

“No, I did not say that!” You thought you could get through this unscathed. That a quick ‘Hello’ would suffice and you’d both move along. You didn’t expect him to lay it on you this thick and this quickly. He knows exactly what he’s doing, making you vulnerable with his sugary sweet words and his penetrating stare that sends a shiver of longing down your spine.

"Stop looking at me like that," you hiss at him in that husky voice of yours that raises goosebumps all over his arms.

“Can’t help it, baby. You beautiful as fuck,” he counters smoothly, stepping closer to you.

“There you go again with the sweet talk. So am I supposed to just forgive you? Forgive and forget and fall right back into your arms? You got me fucked up, boy.”

It’s clear that you have no plans to make it easy for him. He doesn’t blame you. He’s done some unscrupulous things at your expense, none of which you deserved. But he can't stop his body from thrumming at the way your eyes speak volumes to him without using any words. He loves how your long lashes try to hide the real emotions swirling inside you, the hurt peeking through the bravado. You clutch your title to your chest, as though protecting yourself, hiding your body, forgetting that he’s since mastered every inch of it, every inch of you. He’s studied you long enough to detect your defense mechanisms. That’s how intimately he understands you. He has come to the realization that the connection he and you have is a lot more than just sex. His feelings for you run deep, far more than any other woman he’s messed around with.

He just needs to convince you that this is the case.

Taking your hand in his, Jey pulls you close, relieved when you don't shy away this time. He smiles down at you and has to stop himself from kissing your full lips. "Come kick it with ya boy later. Let's grab some dinner after the show. I got a lot of apologizing to do and I want to earn your trust back," he implores.

Just as you feared, your entire resolve starts to crumble at his plea. This is a bad idea. You’ve managed to recover from him once, and you risk relapsing if you allow this to happen. But god, he looks so good and smells even better. You can feel his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours. Your gaze flickers to his lips, remembering how soft they feel against yours, his tongue dancing sensually with your own…

Jey sees through your hesitation and cranks up the pressure. "I promise I'll be good, I'ma keep my hands to myself if that's what you worried about." He releases your hand for emphasis.

As always, when it comes to this motherfucker, your emotions prevail. “Fine,” you concede with a roll of your eyes. “I got a backstage segment with Rhea in twenty minutes and then I’m done for the night. I’ll meet you right here afterwards.”

The smile that lights up his face thaws your heart a little. “A’ight. I’ll be here,” he says.

“Dinner, Jey. Nothing else,” you remind him sternly.

“Scout’s honor. I gotchu,” he says, as you turn away. He looks on with a smirk as you walk down the hallway, sensing your reluctance to part from him. “Let your man know you’ll be home before midnight!” he calls out.

“Whatever, Uso,” you shout back. “And stop staring at my ass!”

Jey snickers at that. He likes that you know him so well.

-----------------

"Mmmm, fuck!"

Your groans trigger his own, the deep, guttural sound filling your ears, thick with need and exertion. Your fingers thread through his blond mullet, pleasure surging through you like potent aftershocks as he pounds into you with breakneck speed, the movements rocking the Chevrolet Equinox marooned in a secluded corner of the empty parking lot.

"God, I've missed this good pussy," Jey pants heavily against your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent, “Fuck, you so wet. Missed you so much, babe.”

Damn it, you should have known…Known it was all a big set up from the jump. You should have smelled trouble coming when he let you order your favorite meal from the obscure little diner you frequented whenever you came to town; that it was a trap when he opted to invade your space by cornering you in the booth and not sitting across from you; You should have known better than to let him rub on your thigh all through dinner, should have steered the conversations back to less intimate, sexual topics. You should have pushed him away when he leaned in for the kiss he’d been seeking all night, knowing damn well that once your lips touched, you’d become so desperate for him that waiting to get to the hotel would no longer be an option. You should have known he rented this big ass SUV because the backseat would be more comfortable and private than any dark alley you could sneak into. You should have known better than to think tonight would turn out any other way; He’s learned a few tricks from his Tribal Chief cousin and carefully and deviously orchestrated this outcome knowing that you could never resist the charms of the man you are, deep down, still hopelessly in love with.

Jey pushes your legs back further towards your head, taking advantage of your famed flexibility, and plows his thick, meaty cock in and out of your pussy, creating the sexiest, filthiest wet noises. Each thrust is deeper and more demanding than the last as he bears down on you, his big body hunched over yours, making you take every inch of him. His grunts and your moans are the only things spoken, the only language understood right now. The smell of sex permeates the thinning air inside the car, the heat of passion scorching, suffocating you both in the most sensuous of ways.

Jey looks down between your bodies and smirks at what he sees. "Damn, look at that, look how wet your pussy is. You definitely missed Daddy," he groans, parting your legs wider for a better view. "This dick feel good, right baby?

“Aw, yes Daddy, you feel so good, fuck me,” your words trail away with a whimper, and you sink your nails into his newly tatted back as he obliges your request. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, lost to the sensation of his big dick plunging deeper inside your wet heat.

Truth be told, you have never had a lover like Jey Uso. Rough. Tender. Chaotic. Gentle. Primal. Passionate. He is all-consuming, a Samoan whirlwind of sexual energy and skill and stamina. He makes you feel like nothing else matters but you and him and the orgasmic moments you share. One look into his darkly luminous eyes and you’re gone every time, a puddle of ruined panties and pussy juice. He never fails to turn you upside down and inside out, expertly coaxing endless orgasms from you. You’re his marionette and he’s the puppet master, the true owner of your body and your soul and your entire being.

And this is a stark reminder of that.

“Damian fuck you like this? Huh?” Jey asks, his sweaty brow furrowed with lust and a hint of curiosity as he scouts out his competition.

Definitely not. Damian is not bad in bed - quite the opposite, in fact. But his efforts can never compare to this. Too wrapped up in ecstasy to speak, you manage to shake your head no at the question, but it's not enough for Jey. His palm slips from your breast to swat your inner thigh, causing a stinging pain that reverberates through your heated skin and surges straight to the pressure point of your clit.

“Use your words, baby,” he orders. He wants to hear you say it, to confirm what you’ve both known all along.

“No, Daddy…” you answer, your mouth falling open in a silent moan as he angles his hips, grinding himself right up against your g-spot the way you like it, his long, determined strokes hitting just right...

“I know he don’t, cuz he don’t know this pussy like I do. This my pussy, baby girl. I can tell you missed this dick too, you grippin’ the shit outta me…”

As much as you hate to admit it, he’s spot on. You haven’t been fucked like this in so long and your kitty is singing for joy. This animalistic side of him as he drives into you is making you delirious. Waves of pleasure wash over you as he reverts to hard, steady, pounding thrusts, lodging his dick in your stomach. You glide your dainty hands all over his chest and abs, letting your fingernails scrape his sweat-slick skin. The slight shudders of his body and his whimpering groans as he reacts to your touch leave you all giddy inside. You dare to cradle his bearded face in your hands and hold his gaze. What stares back at you is so deep and intense and full of emotion, reflecting everything you’ve felt for each other in the past two years.

“Jey…” you whisper after a long, charged moment.

“My baby girl,” Jey breathes back, “I lo-”

You don’t let him finish, tugging him down for a sloppy, unhurried kiss, winding your hips to match his thrusts and ride that edge with him as he moans into your mouth. This spurs him to nudge your thighs even further back with your toes touching the roof of the SUV, opening you up to more pummeling thrusts until your legs tremble in the air and you have to break the kiss from how breathless he's leaving you.

“Fuuuuck!”

“Uh huh, you comin’ for me, baby?” he asks, brushing your lips together again as his own release creeps ever closer. “I know you 'bout to nut. Lemme have it, come for Daddy.”

With one hand, he grips the seat above your head, his hips snapping into you, drilling you faster, harder. You're soaring higher and higher, and then, you crash, contracting around his throbbing shaft as you come so hard you start to convulse. Stars explode behind your eyelids as your arms tighten around his neck, holding on for dear life as you tumble headfirst into the sweet cavern of euphoria.

“Ahhh shit, goddamn, Y/N…” Jey moans along with you as his dick twitches inside your warm depths. You’re still coming all over him, your pussy squeezing and suckling every inch of him to the point that his body tenses on top of yours, and he grunts out, "Gah, finna come!"

Ripping himself out of you, he scrambles upright and pumps his slippery dick in his hand, releasing himself on your lower belly. Both of you moan at the sight of his warm, milky cum gushing all over your brown skin. His groans of pleasure are music to your ears. He keeps massaging his cock, ensuring he’s all emptied out, while his other hand runs up and down the back of your upturned thigh in a sensual, soothing touch.

“Fuck, I almost nutted in you. This pussy too damn good, babe," he pants, resting the semi-hard length on your pussy lips. Feeling it pulse temptingly between your folds, you close your thighs together before the thought of going another round can creep in. You squirm into a seated position and slowly start to clean yourself up, adjusting your clothes as Jey does the same with himself. When you’re both done, his arms come around you as he sweeps his lips, soft and inviting, over the crook of your neck, your cheek, and finally landing on your lips. Inevitably, you melt into his embrace, enjoying the warmth and affection that you’ve needed from him for months.

“You wanna know the real reason I switched brands?” he speaks up after a few moments, waiting for you to look at him. “It wasn’t just to get away from my family. I did it for you.”

The notion has lingered in your mind ever since you saw him return two nights ago at Payback, but to hear it uttered out loud ignites a reaction neither of you expect.

“Don’t. Don’t do that,” you warn, shaking your head.

“Do what?”

Tears inexplicably fill your eyes as you speak. “That. You do it all the time. Say shit that sounds sweet and amazing only for you to do the opposite. I’m over that shit, okay?”

A look of hurt clouds his handsome face. “Baby, I know I made a lot of mistakes that I regret. I own that shit. I also know I’d be a fool to fuck this up again. Real talk.” His beautiful eyes are sad and hopeful and pierce your soul. “I really miss us, baby girl. Truth is, I don’t feel right with no one else but you. I miss you. Don't you miss me?”

At this juncture, lying is pointless. “I do,” you admit, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye. “But I can’t handle you hurting me again, Jey. I won’t let you.”

Jey reaches up to catch the tear with a brush of his thumb, letting his hand linger on your soft cheek. “I know. That’s why I’m here. For you. I’m sorry about everything and I want us to start over. Can we start over?” He gazes intently at you, wanting to say more, but he holds back, shelving it for a more appropriate time. “Take me back. Give me another chance, baby. I’ll be better than I’ve ever been, I swear to you,” he continues softly.

This man always makes you question how strong you really are. Each time you think you've escaped, he finds you and reels you back in, like steel to a magnet. Your brain wants to reject him, but your heart is desperate for him, craving to fall back into him and his empty promises. He has a hold on you that you probably will never be able to break free from, and maybe it’s time you accept this fate.

“I’ll think about it,” you conclude.

“I can grovel if you want. That's fine with me, baby. I’ma grovel as long as you want me to. I know you like the things I do when I’m on my knees.” He winks cheekily as you gasp, blushing profusely.

“Jey!”

“Matter of fact, you comin’ back to my suite with me. I’ma show you just how good I can grovel,” he adds. His straight white teeth sink into his bottom lip, and the heat that simmers in his eyes leaves you weak-kneed.

“Oh my god. What am I gonna do about you?” you lament.

His chuckle is joyous and relieved as he holds you tighter in his strong arms and repeatedly, playfully kisses your cheek. “Whatever you want, my baby girl. Whatever you want.”

You roll your eyes in response, but you fail at masking your grin as the thrill of reuniting with your man warms you all over. You figure that a couple extra hours in his company won't hurt. One night only.

Just tonight.

That's it.

Yeah.

THE END

-----------------

Thoughts? Should she believe him?

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

Bad For Business: Level Seven

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.4K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

You didn’t wait for Steve the next morning, instead ignoring company protocol and unlocking the doors to the arcade yourself.

You’d only managed to switch on the lights and dump your bag in your locker before the boy appeared, looking too alert and slightly flustered despite the early hour. Steve eyed you with caution as he moved around to a tiny staff room, elbows bumping at the lockers, ears tinged red as he ripped down the homemade poster that still had “staff party” written in messy black marker.

No one spoke.

But when you looked at Steve’s face, his strong profile that he was trying to hide inside his locker, his brow furrowed, his cheeks pink - you could only remember the way he’d kissed you the night before.

Standing on the white lines in the middle of the road, his hands almost too big - too encompassing - as they cradled your neck and jaw, his tongue swiping over yours in slow passes, his nose pressed hard to your cheek like he couldn’t get close enough.

And then you mumbled something stupid, practically ran to your house and tried to slow your breathing as you shut your bedroom door, your neck pressed to the wood, your eyes wide. You’d watched from the dark of your room as Steve lingered on the street, standing still in the same spot, his hands on the back of his head, lips still parted. He looked to your window as you ducked, wondering if your heartbeat was the loudest thing in the night.

And now, you did the same, backing away without an explanation, locker slamming shut and making your both jump. Then you grabbed the mop and bucket, some trash bags under your arm and you were gone, back out into the gloom of the arcade, the machines still switched off.

You both had two hours to clean, to bring the place back to an acceptable level of clean for the customers, despite the way you knew there’d be chewed up gum, strawberry space blast pink, stuck to the screens, sticky residue from god knows what on the joysticks.

But you gathered the crushed solo cups, poured the half drunk beer down the sink and picked up the bottles and forgotten joints. There was a pile of lost wallets and one shoe on the desk by the time you were done, acutely aware of Steve lingering somewhere in the back, pretending to clean the photo booth that teens used to hook up. You didn’t think anyone had replaced the photo paper in years.

Maybe it was some sudden bout of courage, maybe it was because Steve had shut the overhead lights off, casting you both in the familiar glow of the game lights, all neon pink and blue and purple. Maybe it was just the fumes from the bleach.

You walked over to Steve, full trash bag abandoned by the side of Dig Dug, rubber gloves snapped off and dropped on top. “Hey, Harrington. You done?”

The boy’s head appeared from between the curtains of the photobooth, lips parted in surprise that you were speaking to him. He raised in brows as he looked around the space, a pile of ripped condom wrappers and cigarette butts in his own trash bag. He nodded, a little distracted before looking back at you.

His gaze dropped to your lips and stayed there, unapologetic.

You cleared your throat, trying to sound authoritative despite being on the same paycheck Steve was on, both of you barely scraping by three dollars an hour. “Okay, well, everyone else will be here in like, an hour, and we still need to—”

“Are we not gonna talk about last night?”

You stopped, wide eyed and lips wrapping around words that weren’t there anymore. What were you saying? Your mouth opened and closed, only opening again to let out a nervous laugh before you shook your head. “About what? A stupid dare?”

Steve grinned then, a surprising but pretty change in his expression. Eyes shining in the lights, skin different shades of pink and purple from the lights, his entire being a candy cotton pink and lilac glow. He tutted, looking up at you through his lashes as he stayed seated on the tiny bench that took up the space inside the booth.

He dropped the cloth he was using to wipe down the screen, a soft splat on the floor, soap suds gathering at his feet. “I thought the game ended when we Hop shoved us in the back of his car, princess.” Steve shrugged, acting innocent, like he didn’t know what he was suggesting. “You don’t wanna talk about it? Fine with me, we can just pretend like—”

“We don’t have to pretend anything,” you interrupted, cheeks immediately flushing with heat at what Steve was suggesting. That you’d shared a kiss because you’d both wanted to. “It was a game. That’s all.”

“Seemed pretty private to be a game,” Steve murmured, looking unfazed as he crossed his arms and leaned back in the booth, eyes still on you. “But hey, what’s a little truth or dare between friends in the middle of the street?”

You felt too warm, too alone. “We’re not friends,” you breathed back.

Steve only grinned wider. “Yeah, you’re right,” he nodded. “Friends don’t kiss like that, do they?”

You were suddenly flushed with annoyance, leaning into the booth until your toes squished the cloth and more suds leaked out. “We’re not friends,” you repeated, a whispered hiss accompanied with a glare, like there were people around to hear your secrets. “And you kissed me, so don’t act like—”

“Like what?” Steve was still smiling, a pretty smirk that made the slant of his jaw look sharper, his chin tilted up to you, as if trying to antagonise. “Like we didn’t enjoy it? I don’t remember you pushin’ me away, princess. I know you’ve got a good right hook, I have zero recollection of feeling that last night but shit, you tasted like peaches—”

You squeaked, indignant, shoving a hand to Steve’s chest to get him to shut up and he was laughing, a warm hand curling around your wrist and holding. You were almost in the booth with him, the only space to stand was between his spread legs and this was dangerous, this wasn’t what was supposed to happen, this was—

You were looking at his lips.

Silence slipped between you both, eyes on each other, chests heaving from arguing, from the excitement, from what if. Steve’s hand pulled you closer and you should’ve said no, you should’ve stepped away but you let him guide you between his knees and he only let you go to lean forward and pluck a forgotten dime from the coin slot in the booth. He glanced back up at you, pretty and still smiling, looking at you like you were his favourite game to play.

“If you’re not a fan of truth or dare,” he explained, playing with the coin so it ran back and forth over his knuckles, “how about some good old fashioned chance?”

You scowled down at him, your arms across your chest so you wouldn’t do something stupid, like reach out and run your fingers through his hair. “What?”

Steve flipped the coin up with a flick of his thumb, catching it in his palm and showing you the stately profile of President Roosevelt. “Heads or tails. How d’you like your luck, princess?”

“Stop calling me that,” you answered instead, scowling at him in a way that only made the boy grin wider. You didn’t leave. You didn’t move away. “What’re we even betting on?”

Somewhere in the arcade, more machines came to life, kicking in on the old generator that took too long to restart each morning. Bells went off, alarms rang and the electronic beeps began playing theme songs, all on top of each other. But you could only focus on Steve.

You watched as he licked his bottom lip, a nervous gesture, not a seduction, but you were reminded of his kiss all the same. Your stomach tumbled and you were acutely aware of how alone you both were, the din of the arcade making you feel lost, flustered, hidden away in the dark corners by the games that didn’t work.

Steve shrugged, too casual, like he was trying to play it cool, like what he was about to say wasn’t a big deal. “Tails, we do it your way. We pretend it didn’t happen.” His gaze flicked up to yours, tongue caught between his teeth before he smiled real nice and let his knee knock against your thigh. “Heads, we try it again.”

You felt dizzy with his words, the suggestion. You smiled, sardonic and a little mean, like you were trying your best to stay tough despite the way you wanted to run back to the bike you’d padlocked in the alley out back.

“Try what again?” You feigned ignorance, half stalling, half wanting to hear the boy say the words.

Steve smirked, a lazy roll of his eyes making your gaze narrow, a familiar feeling of annoyance rising up and across your chest. “What do you think?”

So you tried to take back control, wondering if you’d had it all since last night, since Steve pulled you into him and stole your breath, stole your words. Your foot knocked against his and you grinned, shoulders squared, chin jutted out in defiance.

You weren’t going to back down. Not to Steve fucking Harrington.

“Shucks,” you cooed, sickly sweet and too soft. “Another kiss? Your asshole act is wearing thin, Harrington, you got a crush on me or something?”

Steve scoffed, leaning back on the bench, legs still spread with you between them, looking cocky and too at ease despite the way his cheeks turned a little pink, his gaze dipping to where your skirt rested high on your thighs.

“A crush?” The boy snorted. “What am I, twelve?” He stood up then, taller than you, crowding the small space with his broad shoulders, the smell of his cologne. “I just think you’re real cute when your mouth is busy, princess, wanna fight about that too?”

You shouldn’t have enjoyed that, a backhanded compliment that sounded like sin and something else salacious coming from Steve’s mouth. The innuendo was clear and so was the challenge in his eyes. The booth seemed infinitely smaller now. You raised your head and didn’t let your gaze waver.

“Flip the coin.”

If Steve looked proud, he didn’t show it for long. He let out a breath of a laugh, almost disbelieving before he brought his hand between your both and flicked the dime up with his thumb, catching it too quick with his hand. There was nothing but the neon lights and the matching sound of your heartbeats.

Steve’s hand unfurled, fingers stretching out to present the result to you both, your breath caught in your throat as you waited and waited and waited. Space Invaders beeped, Donkey Kong roared and somewhere back at the front desk, the cash machine started making error code sounds, an electronic symphony that you barely registered.

Heads.

You looked up at the boy through your lashes, toe to toe in the tiny space, breaths shared as he stared back at you, confidence slipping as his lips parted, ready to tell you it was just a stupid game. You didn’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.

But then you were on him, an urgency and a confidence that seemed to come from nowhere. Maybe a place of anger, maybe years worth of annoyance and frustration and tension, maybe you’d spent too long being too close.

Maybe you just couldn’t stop thinking about the way Steve kissed you.

You pushed yourself onto your toes, hands finding the hair at the nape of the boy’s neck as you pulled him down to you, swallowing his gasp of surprise as you pressed your lips to his. It was hurried until it wasn’t, until Steve swept your hair from your face and pushed his thumb to the corner of your mouth, urging you to part your lips, wanting you closer. It was hesitant for a second, doubt creeping up on you both until you stumbled and Steve’s back hit the wall of the booth, his eager hands still holding you, taking you with him.

Another gasp, a jolt of pain and pressure and something else electric and before you understood what happened, you were frantic about it, pulling him down meanly do you could kiss him deeper, messier, dirtier, your tongue licking across his before you could suck on his bottom lip, collecting the sounds he gave you and saving them for later.

Hands pulled at shirts, finding their way underneath, fingertips exploring until skin ran too hot and suddenly Steve had his hand hooked under your knee and your thigh was hitched up to his hip, your back against the static filled screen as the boy pressed himself into you.

Maybe the hard length of him was making Steve feel a little too out of control, because he took the time to part from you, lips flossy and reddened from your tongue, your teeth. He was panting, eyes hooded and chest flushed, but he tried his best to sound lazy and unaffected when he said, “See? So much better when you’re not bitchin’ at me—”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, fingers squishing his cheeks together, pretty lips pushed into a pout just for you. “Shut up.”

You would’ve kissed him again then, would’ve been awful about it, pulling cruel at his hair until he hissed and maybe pulled you down onto his lap on the bench, your skirt splayed real pretty around your thighs. And maybe if you taunted Steve enough, he could’ve helped you grind down on him, soaked underwear against his rough jeans, hips rolling something filthy over his hard cock until he couldn’t talk shit anymore.

But your lips just touched his, his teeth nipping at you, when the sound system cracked to life and the mix Argyle had made kicked into high volume. The Beach Boys started to play through the arcade, louder than Murray allowed.

Whatever had just happened was over.

You stepped back from Steve, standing on either side of the small booth, backs pressed to the wall as you both tried to catch your breaths. His hair was a mess and your lips felt swollen, your shirt untucked from your skirt and the hard on Steve was sporting was undeniable. Your gaze flicked down to his crotch and you couldn’t help but smile, amused and a little smug.

Whatever had just happened was over. But you had a feeling it was only just starting.

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